This year the wonderful Owen Collins (imagine John Cooper Clarke’s fiesty younger brother, with more facial hair and political awareness…) orchestrated a project called ‘The Poetry Advent Calendar’ where he wrote an original poem each day for the 24 days that lead up to Christmas.
I was door 19. Here it is: ‘Wembley Stadium is London’s Worst Nightlight’
Wembley Stadium Is London’s Worst Nightlight
Tonight I am candy cane
Head hung in shame.
Tonight I am giving eyes to security cameras.
Tonight I trust this city’s nightbus veins.
Tonight I am two pints in and an Elvis tattoo up,
Tonight my bicep plays host to The King,
Tonight I will uh-huh-huh til my hips hurt.
Tonight I’m storing poems like postage stamps
Behind the protective layer of my grin
But at least my collection will have bite.
Tonight my words will drown in Belgian beer.
I’m keeping them well soaked.
Tonight the sky is a comfort blanket
A quilt I cannot let go.
Tucking in skyscrapers
Kissing goodnight the cranes of this city
On their sleepy foreheads
Rest safe til Monday
Wembley Stadium is London’s worst nightlight
And by this time we are all heavy blinking.
London, you don’t make it easy to love you,
But I still get sunrise butterflies
(I always do)
And you have such a proud skyline,
I find it hard to hate the blue.